Her Second Job

This is the seventh and final story in this series. I apologize that it is so long and has less sex than the prior chapters. I thought this necessary to conclude the story of Denise Hines and her friends. I hope you have enjoyed them. This story will make much more sense if you've already read Her Second Job chapters 1 -6.

The series was inspired by things which really happened years ago, but this story is complete fiction. Any similarities between any character in this story and any real person are coincidental and unintended. Comments on this story, both favorable and unfavorable, are always welcome. Thank you for reading.

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As I've said, Danielle considered our dancing "art" rather than just exhibitionism. This meant that she kept coming up with new ways for us to show our naked bodies that were "artistic" or "challenging." Early in the third calendar year I danced at the bar, Danielle decided I should dance with Jessie. She liked the contrast of a white guy dancing naked with an African American woman.

The bar was in a very conservative area. I'd always been surprised that it hadn't gotten grief from people bent on enforcing their notions of "morality." Local government loved us because the bar paid real property taxes, personal property taxes, sales taxes, and a monthly "adult entertainment license fee;" and everyone who worked there paid a 1% earnings tax. I doubted that self-appointed guardians of public morals cared about taxes paid. But no one had hassled the bar.

This tolerance led us to think that a white guy onstage dancing naked onstage with a naked black woman would be ok. Danielle created a dance for Jessie and me that had us spend most of the song close but not touching. As the song hit its final chord, Jessie and I embraced face-to-face. Jessie was a lovely woman with a firm body. Embracing her naked felt good. Denise and Annie were fine with it. I didn't see any problems. We only danced together once an evening in the midnight show.

Jessie and I first danced on a Friday might in February. Annie, Denise, and I danced together in the 11 o'clock show. I danced twice, once with Jessie and once with Denise, in the midnight show. Everything went great. After the usual afterwork drinks, Denise, Annie, and I left in my VW to take Annie home.

We'd gone about seven miles, and made two turns, when Denise said, "Harry, we're being followed. That truck behind us with the unusual lights. I saw it in the bar's lot when we left." Looking in the rearview mirror, I saw a pick-up truck behind us with an illuminated design in its grill.

Annie looked behind us. "I saw that same truck at the bar." The illuminated design was unique, something like a fist holding a knife. I doubted there were two trucks like that and was sure that Denise and Annie were not mistaken.

I wondered what was up. If the truck wanted to stop us, the best place was in the rural area near the bar. We were already back into the city suburbs. Drawing on spy novels I'd read in my teens; I made several meaningless turns that made basically a full circle. I wanted to see whether the truck stayed with us and to let it know we knew it was following. The truck stayed behind us and, apparently, didn't care what we knew.

I didn't want to lead them to Annie's apartment or ours. When I saw a ramp to the circle freeway, I got an idea. I got on the freeway, went two exits, got off, and pulled into a discount motel. After a nervous moment pressing the buzzer on the office door while the truck pulled in and parked, an old man let the three of us in. Denise and Annie immediately took off their winter coats. They were obviously braless under their tee shirts. The old man's initially gruff attitude immediately improved.

I told the old man why we'd pulled into his motel. Through the office window, we could see the truck and two men sitting inside. The old man said, "They get ten minutes. They either came in and rent a room, leave, or I'm calling my friends." Ten minutes passed. The old man stepped out of sight of the window, pulled out a cell phone and dialed. When his call was answered, he said, "Mike, this is Ralph. I think we've got druggies here again." Ralph ended his called and snickered.

Sooner than I expected, two police cruisers were in the motel lot, one parked in front and one parked behind the truck. The officer from the front cruiser was talking to the truck's driver while the other officer brought a dog out of his cruiser and began circling the truck. The dog reacted on the passenger side of the truck. The canine officer said something into a radio clipped to his shirt. The other officer unholstered his gun and held it beside his leg. I couldn't hear what was said, but the officer's body language became more assertive. Two more police cruisers pulled into the lot, lights on, as the two men slowly got out of the truck.

The two men from the truck were guarded by two officers while other officers searched the truck. The officers took several plastic bags out of the truck. The two from the truck were handcuffed and put into cruisers. The officer who had parked in front of the truck came into the office.

"Ralph," the officer said, "we'll have a tow truck here soon. You were right again. The dog reacted to some coke which I guess those boys had for personal use. That gave us probable cause to search the truck and we found a lot of fentanyl. I doubt those boys have any legit reason to be carrying fentanyl early on a Saturday morning. Thanks Ralph, this was a good bust."

The officer went back outside. Ralph said, "Ok, you can be getting on. Sure you've got things to do."

"Thanks for your help," I replied. "At least let me pay you for a room for a night."

"Nah," Ralph said. "You provided entertainment. That's enough."

"How did you know they had drugs in the truck?" Annie asked.

"I didn't," Ralph said, "but it seemed like a good guess and it got the cops here pronto like I wanted."

We took Annie home. I guess we were still a bit scared or, at least, unnerved. It seemed better to stay with Annie that night than leave her alone.

When we got to the bar Saturday night, Kurt showed us several signs that he'd found taped to his doors when he and Danielle had arrived. Most were too vile for me to repeat, but the gist was that whites and blacks should not be naked together. One said, "Free Kyle and Blaine, prisoners of the liberal-n****r pigs." That made us more determined that Jessie and I dance together again that night.

Around 11 o'clock, Brie said there were several very rough young men in the bar, drinking heavily. Kurt had contacts in the sheriff's office whom he called. The deputies loved calls to the bar because, well, because of Denise, Annie, Danielle, Alicia, Jessie, and Nadine naked. There were five deputies inside the bar by midnight and, we were told, sobriety check points on the road outside the bar's entrance.

Jessie and I danced that night but the grim-faced young men standing along the bar eliminated the joy. We dispensed with the after closing time drinks and left as fast as we could. Turning onto the road from the bar, Denise, Annie, and I saw several of the rough young men sitting inside cruisers at the checkpoint.

The weekend's experiences rattled us, but it wasn't until Wednesday that we understood what it meant. Danielle called that afternoon to say that she and Kurt were at the bar. Someone had set off dynamite outside the bar's front door overnight. Danielle said that the barroom was mostly destroyed. The bar was closed until further notice.

The bar never reopened. Kurt had property insurance, but his company refused to pay, saying the bombing was an "act of terrorism" excluded under the policy. I represented Kurt and had to file suit. Over a year later, Kurt settled with the company for 50% of his loss. The bombers were eventually convicted. At trial, they justified the bombing as necessary to "preserve the purity of the white race." Sick!

Denise and I missed being exhibitionists. Annie missed that and the money she earned at the bar. I never saw Jessie or Nadine again.

We lost our dancing but got a rewarding case from another of my high school buddies, Ron Morgan. Ron had a cousin, Eve Holgrew, who studied business and cooped at the University. Eve spent a coop semester at Stoth Metals, Inc., the last steel manufacturer left in our region. Eve was an attractive young woman and caught the attention of Stoth's 33-year old owner and CEO Bennett Stoth. Eve was naïve and flattered by Ben Stoth's attention. She started having sex with Ben and eventually agreed to some "home movies" with him, just for their personal enjoyment.

Eve went back to school the next semester. Her class schedule kept her from fucking Ben Stoth as often as he wanted. Stoth became threatening. Eve stopped answering his calls. Soon, one of the "home movies" was posted to a popular porn website. You couldn't see the face of the man whose dick was variously in Eve's pussy, mouth, and ass but you could see Eve's face clearly. To avoid any confusion over the star's identity, Eve's name, cell phone number, and e-mail address were posted with the video. Eve found out when she started getting abusive calls and e-mail. Someone e-mailed copies of the video to every publicly available e-mail address at the University. That led to stories in the campus and city newspapers. It was all too much for Eve Holgrew. She killed herself.

Ron said Eve's parents were devastated but he thought there should be something done. He was sure Stoth was involved and told me that a guy who used to work in IT at Stoth Metals, and who had known Eve, had offered to help. The guy was scared to death of Ben Stoth and refused to do anything publicly, but said he had information we could use to go after Stoth. I thought it was worth looking into. So did Vanessa.

I met with the guy who'd worked in Stoth IT at a bar. He wouldn't give me his name, so I'll call him John. John told me it was an open secret at Stoth Metals that Ben Stoth persuaded or coerced any attractive woman working there to have sex with him and Stoth video-recorded the sex. So far, that was nothing too out of the ordinary and none of the women had complained, although Stoth Metals did have high turnover of female employees.

What John told me next made the case unusual. John said that it had always seemed to him that Stoth had more server capacity than it needed for its business. John was out drinking with his boss one night and asked about the extra capacity. John's boss said that those servers hosted a website where Ben Stoth posted the videos of his sex with the staff. You could subscribe to the site and watch what Ben Stoth did with his female employees. John had not seen the website and didn't know its address, but he was sure it existed.

Annie was an expert at finding things on the Internet. We hired her as a consultant and asked her to find Stoth's website. After a few days, Annie found what she thought was the site. We couldn't access the main site without subscribing, which we didn't want to do. There were free "preview" videos of three different women. Annie took screenshots of those. I set up a second meeting with John to see if he could identify any of the women.

John came through, identifying two women as former Stoth employees. He didn't know the third woman. Denise tracked down the two women whose names we had. I asked Annie to do an image search to see if she could identify the third woman.

Annie came back to me a couple of days later. "Harry," she said, "you may have trouble believing this, but I'm pretty sure your mystery woman is a local lawyer." Annie showed me a bar directory picture of a young lawyer named Megan Crosby. She put it next to the screen shot from the porn site. It looked like the same face to me. "Megan used to be at Coughlin & Moore," Annie said, naming a prominent local environmental law firm. "She left there about a year ago for no apparent reason and is now at a consultant, Valley Environmental."

I asked Annie, "Is there any way to download the entire "preview video" of Megan?"

"I don't know," Annie said. "I'll try."

A day later, Annie was back in the office with a flash drive. "I got it," she said. "There's something I want you to see."

"I'm not sure I want to watch a porn video of another local lawyer," I said.

"I don't think it's really her," Annie said. "Let me show you." She plugged the flash drive into one of our computers and started the video. "Watch the face. Her facial expressions don't match up with what her body's doing." You had to look carefully but Annie was right. There were times that the body was doing things, like being fucked hard, that would produce some facial reaction. However, Ms. Crosby's face was expressionless or bored.

"Can you take a video of one person and superimpose another person's face?" I asked.

"Yes," Annie replied. "It takes some AI to get it even this well synchronized, but a sophisticated technician with the right equipment could do it."

I didn't think it was smart for a strange man to call Megan Crosby about this. I asked Denise to contact her, explain that we were looking into theft of private videos, and ask Ms. Crosby to look at this video. We made a copy from our copy. Denise called Crosby and met her after work, just long enough to deliver a flash drive with the 25 seconds of "preview" video.

Megan Crosby called us the next morning. I answered the phone. Crosby was beyond pissed off. "Where did you get this?" she screamed. "This isn't me! Did you create this?"

I calmed her down, some. She agreed to meet Denise and me that night at a quiet bar Downtown. When we identified ourselves to her in the bar, Megan's first words were "This video came from Stoth Metals."

"How do you know that?" I asked.

"Stoth cost me my job at Coughlin & Moore," Megan said. "They do Stoth's environmental work. I'd never worked on a Stoth matter before, but I was sent up there to review discharge records. The state EPA found nasty chemicals near one of their Middleburg plants. I get there and the in-house environmental guy immediately takes me to meet Ben Stoth. Stoth made some very inappropriate comments about how I looked. Later, I was alone in a room going over the records. Stoth came in and closed the door. He became very explicit about what he wanted to do with me. I was afraid he was going to attack me, and I screamed. Stoth got pissed but someone started banging on the outside of the door, so he opened it. I went to the office and told the partner-in-charge of Stoth work what happened. A couple days later, I was called into a meeting with him and the managing partner. They said they'd talked to Ben Stoth, that Stoth denied everything, and they had no choice but to believe their client. They said they couldn't have attorneys making "unfounded accusations" against clients. I was fired. Then, they gave me six months' severance."

"Ok," I said, but how do you know Stoth made this video?"

"First," Megan said, "that isn't my body and I can prove if it I have to."

"How?" Denise asked.

"I'm a natural blonde," Megan said. "The body in the video has dark pubic hair. That video came from Stoth because what the guy is doing to the girl is exactly what Stoth said he wanted to do to me. I'll never forget that. Also, Stoth has security cameras everywhere. That is how I wore my hair when I went to Stoth. I changed it just after I was fired. Salon therapy."

Megan Crosby turned an investigation into a potentially good case. Most of what we knew about Eve Holgrew came from her own journal, which was probably inadmissible hearsay. Denise had talked to the other two women we'd identified. They said they'd had sex with Ben Stoth while working at Stoth Metals and knew Ben was making videos but denied consenting to the videos being on any website. I thought that Stoth probably had access to their signatures and could forge consents. Moreover, a jury might feel that they'd been stupid agreeing to be recorded and had "asked" for what happened.

Megan was different. She hadn't done anything wrong or exercised bad judgment. She was pure victim. She was articulate and very attractive in an understated way. She was the perfect lead plaintiff. Megan agreed to strip naked for Denise and Annie. They confirmed to me that the body in the video was definitely not Megan Crosby's body. After thinking about it for, maybe, ten seconds, Megan agreed to let us represent her in a suit against Ben Stoth and Stoth Metals. We filed the case in April.

That started a year of tough fighting. In short, a court order gave us access to Stoth's servers. Of course, they'd been wiped clean. Vanessa's boyfriend, Jason Monaghan, an investigator for the Illinois Attorney General, hooked us up with a topflight, extremely expensive, computer forensics specialist. The computer guy retrieved virtually the entire website from the Stoth servers; videos, logins and passwords, and payment records. Over a couple of years, Stoth had grossed about $ 300,000 from his website.

The Stoth case was nasty. As more women in the videos joined the case, Stoth's lawyers accused us of soliciting clients. We expected that and had documentation that the women had asked us to represent them, not vice versa. We also had documentation that we'd given each woman the names and numbers of two other lawyers, not connected with us, whom we knew were willing to represent them. We had the solicitation charge beaten, but it was no fun being attacked.

As the case reached its first anniversary, Annie was spending a lot of her time with Sean Dunn, a Ph. D candidate in economics whom she'd met at the University. Sean became very important in Annie's life and, consequently, in ours. Given our intimate relationship with Annie, Denise and I tended to be proprietary about her. We scrutinized Sean intensely and he passed with flying colors. More important, Annie was falling in love with him.

Sean was very bright but not at all arrogant about that. He was funny, kind, and, unlike Annie's previous boyfriend Colin, very considerate of Annie. I don't think Sean is an exhibitionist like the rest of us, but he had no hesitancy getting naked with us and anyone else who happened to be around. Annie assured us, and we later verified by in-person observation, that Sean gave her very good orgasms. Annie said that she'd told Sean about her relationship with us early on and he treated it as perfectly natural. I came to learn over the years that Sean Dunn and I shared at least one very strongly held opinion: Denise Hines and Annie Gentry are the two most desirable women in the world.

It had been more than a year since Kurt had been forced to close the bar in New Bethel. Denise, Annie, and I had not had any real outlets for our exhibitionist urges. Denise, Annie, Sean, and I went skinny dipping in the lake by Annie's grandmother's house. Amanda and Greg joined us occasionally. That was just getting naked with good friends (how else does one dress with close friends?). It wasn't really showing off.

Vanessa came to our relief. She had a friend in Chicago, Karen Bloom, who aspired to design jewelry. Vanessa said Karen's designs were very good. However, Karen couldn't find anyone willing to manufacture and market her jewelry. As Vanessa put it, "Karen peddled her ass in New York, Miami, Chicago, San Francisco, and LA and didn't get shit."

Karen's final effort was to do a fashion-show style exhibition of her work in her hometown. She borrowed a lot of money to have several of her pieces manufactured. Vanessa fronted money to rent a ballroom in a Downtown hotel, for catering, and for an open bar. The shtick was that the models would walk the runway wearing Karen's jewelry and nothing else. The problem was that Karen didn't have the money to hire professional models.